Task of Death
by Void of Shining Darkness
Summary: Steve lives alone with only his work to keep him company. But when his chisel and home is destroyed by a Greifer he is offered a chance to gain a new purpose by a random stranger. There is one condition though: he must kill the Beast.
1. The Beginning

I lovingly carve out patterns in the smooth stone. Lines make their way across the block in waves and swirls, which will eventually create a picture of great beauty.

I turn over the block, and study the marks. I give a sharp nod filled with satisfaction, and place it off to the side so I can start on a new project. I take another block -wood, this time- and a torch. I hold the wooden block above the torch, and begin to burn it carefully. I move the block and torch accordingly, not too fast or there will be no mark at all, and not too slow as to refrain from setting the block alight.

Time has no meaning to me, I need no sleep, and I could care less about the blocks which my work creates, but the one thing that keeps me going is the work itself, smoothing out nicks in the material, filing in cracks, styling the surface of the block, that is what I so adore.

I lay down this block, I do not know- nor care how long it has taken me to perfect this one. I recall having to pause for a new torch every so often, as the one I was holding had burnt out. I look over this new creation for any faults that I need to correct, seeing none I toss it to the side with the rest.

My stomach rumbles its displeasure at being empty. I frown and stand, my legs cramping from being in the same position for so long. I stretch, listening as my body cracks from the kinks removing themselves. I walk purposefully over to the cupboard, not wishing to spend a moment longer away from my work. I throw it open, and frown at the bare space. I need to restock my food storage. I glance at the small pile of blocks I have left, at least I won't have to waste my time on only retrieving food, that pile won't last much longer.

I walk over to a table and lay down my chisel. One of my ancestors made it, I'm not sure how long ago though, I just know that my family has been carving ever since, judging by the city made of our blocks. I walk away from it hesitatingly, it is the only thing that allows me to work, if I lost it... I shake that thought from my mind. I wish for the thousandth time that the chisel could leave the house with me; but alas, whoever made the wondrous tool also enchanted it to never leave my home.

I walk out the door, and lock it. There are no windows to my house, so the door is the only way in or out. I hate going out, not only because it takes me away from the blocks and detailing patterns of great splendor on them, but it opens a window of opportunity for anyone who would wish to destroy the chisel. I've heard of Griefers and Trolls who would do anything to get their hands on my tool, as it is the only one.

The forest is now in view, just past it is the city my family and I have sold our blocks to. I see the tops of some of the tallest towers peaking above the leafy canopy. I study the area around me, filled with flowers and wildlife, ideas for new designs popping into my head with every step. I grin, if I buy enough materials, I may not have to leave the house for another month or so.

I am stopped at the gate by guards, but they quickly let me through when they realize who I am, and how I could destroy a building with one improperly made block. I scoff at the thought of leaving one un-perfected. If I wanted to bring a building down, I would give some TNT a stone covering and give it a timer so it blows at the most opportune moment. People step out of my way when I pass them on the way to the market. I try to walk speedily, I don't want to spend any more time than I have to here. Merchants advertise their wares loudly, shouting about enchanted pickaxes, and 'If you want to buy a diamond for five dollars, say 123!' which is followed by multiple people shouting the numbers.

"Haven't seen you in a while," Alex smiles at me as I walk up to her booth. "Same as always?" Alex is a block merchant, she has almost every kind, which is one of the reasons I always buy from her.

"N-no." My throat is scratchy from disuse, I clear it, "ahem. No, Alex. Double the amount, please." I reach into my inventory, and pull out three items. Two are bags, filled with separate things, and the other item is a miniature block of stone, cut into a diamond shape and styled so that it looks exactly like one too. I keep my hand under the booth so she can't see what I hold.

"Double? Sounds like you're going to be busy for a while." She turns and begins to rummage through her stock. I place the bags and stone on the counter. She turns back around and gasps at the sight of the rock. I don't see why, it is only an item, a lump of stone. I am giving it to her as she seems to like my creations, and I consider her my only friend. Friends are something I do not need, yet sometimes wish for when I have run out of thoughts to think and ideas to design. I see Alex the most, and we always have some sort of conversation when I'm here, for food or materials matters not, we always talk.

I tilt my head, I don't understand the expression on her face. It seems to be a mixture of happiness and wonder, but why are there tears leaking from her green eyes? I look down to the stone, it's nothing special. I look back up at her. "Are you okay?"

She nods wordlessly.

"Are you sure? I apologize if I somehow offended you."

"N-no!" she quickly wipes away the tears. "It's just I've never seen anything more beautiful."

I look at the stone in confusion. She reaches under the counter and brings out four stacks of oak logs and stone respectably, she places them next to the items, and delicately grabs the rock and sets it on a shelf behind her. I watch as she does so while placing the stone and wood into my inventory.

She opens the bags one at a time. In one is shavings from my work, she can use them to make new blocks. In the other is more styled blocks. She doesn't cry at these, I note. But then again, she must be used to them, after all, the whole city is made of these blocks. I start to walk away, but she jumps over the counter and gives me a hug. I stiffen at her touch, unused to physical contact of any kind. "Thank you," she mutters when she pulls away, embarrassed.

"Er- you're welcome?" It comes out sounding like a question. I leave quickly to avoid any more hugs.

* * *

"No." I stand still, wishing that my eyes are deceiving me. "No, no, no, no, no, no!" I run towards the burning building. This can't be happening. It's not happening. I drop all items to lighten myself so I can go faster. I slam my hand on the hot wood frantically, trying to break it down. I succeed and rush into the room, waving smoke away from my face and coughing it out of my lungs. I stumble around fires, trying to see whether or not my-

"No!" I stand with the flames crackling gleefully around me as they eat my belongings, watching as my life burns away. My chisel is already too destroyed to even attempt to save it. I fall to my knees, my mind becoming blank. The only thing that held any meaning to me, gone. I don't care about the heat. I don't care it will kill me if I don't move. I just don't care. Not only was my chisel my life, the only thing I have ever known, it was the last thing my father gave to me before he died. I miss him. He taught me everything he knew, about carving, Mobs, bartering, everything. His death is one of the reasons I'm so detached from everything.

Flames come closer to me, and I watch them, welcome them even. My purpose of living is gone, I don't know what to do anymore. I won't be able to buy food without my source of income. I would last for three months tops with my savings, which no doubt are being burnt to a crisp. I am so warm, not burning, just warm. I lay down and stare at what used to be the ceiling, but is now wooden planks desperately trying to hold the position they were placed into.

I see a flash of white before one of those planks falls and lands on my head, bringing comforting darkness where nothing exists.

* * *

I awake to sunlight. It's hurting my eyes, which I open moments later. I am laying face up in the ruins of my home, watching as the sun seems to laugh at me, at my misfortune.

Someone clears their throat off to the side. I ignore them, unless they can give me my chisel back they are nothing to me. A shadow blocks my view of the sun. My eyes adjust to see a man whom appears to be middle aged with dark eyes, pale skin, and a top hat. I blink up at him, but let my eyes glaze over, he is nothing interesting.

"What are you doing down there?" he asks, his voice rough, but kind. I don't want his kindness, I want my life back.

We stare at each other for a moment until I reach the conclusion that he won't leave until I answer him. "Wallowing in despair," I say finally. I figure that being truthful should make him go away faster.

"And why are you doing that?" What's with these questions? Doesn't he have something better to do than interrogate me on things that don't involve him. He smiles, as if he knows something at that thought. It's almost as if he read my mind like a book, but that's impossible. No one can do that. I look at him suspiciously, wondering what secret it is that he finds so amusing. He gives a small chuckle.

"My life is ruined." I eventually say, fed up with this guy. How can he be so cheerful when everything means nothing? When everything has no purpose? I used to have one, possibly the only one in the whole universe with something to do that I didn't pull out of my bottom, and now that purpose is dead, burnt to the ashes that I am covered in.

"How so?"

I glare at this insistent man, how come he won't take a hint and leave me be? "My purpose, my whole meaning to live is blowing away in the wind." I raise my arm to gesture at the ashes flowing through the air in an elegant dance. I suppose it's beautiful, but not at much as the smooth marks left behind by my chisel, the noise of the swirling air is not as pleasant as the scraping sound of stone chipping away from the block, leaving behind facial features that only Gods could posses, the smell though is the same; burnt oak from torches. I used those scorched blocks as finishing touches for my projects, I highly doubt that burning lines into dead trees would be the same as carving my mind into stone.

"What if I could give you a new purpose?" He says. My eyes dart to meet his own. He's calm and relaxed. My father taught me that a lying man will have a Tell. I glance over him to see if his fingers or feet are restless. I look back to his eyes, he looks back, untroubled by my intense scrutiny of him. Nothing, either he is a _really_ good liar, or he's being truthful.

Hope blooms in my chest, maybe my life isn't over. "And how would you do that?" I ask, hope clear in my voice.

He gives another small chuckle, then reaches down his hand to help me up. "Let's go for a walk, shall we?"

* * *

Rage fills me, making me punch the tree I am standing beside. It shatters into splinters. The cleaner of two men looks in my direction, the other is covered in ash and soot. I duck behind another tree, but he knows I'm here now.

Why wasn't I watching the house like I have been since that family were given their precious tool? I believe I had been bored, so as soon as someone summoned me, I went to them. Greifers weren't common in this area, so I felt that I was wasting my time, that I could leave before the descendant returned to his home. That was extremely foolish of me, and now I am paying the price.

I survey the area one last time, knowing already which Greifer did this, having seen him run in the opposite direction once the descendant returned. I teleport away before the man thinks to remove me. Of course, I know he isn't _just_ a man. And I would prefer to decide the place I end up. Appearing on the other side of the world would make the teleport back last longer, wasting more of the time I need to prepare.

I appear in a wooden home, a nice one. I look around, still enraged. But it is my ears that tell me the whereabouts of my prey. The sound of chests opening echos throughout the house. I speed behind the looting minecrafter, making his hair wave in the breeze caused by my quick movements. He turns, startled. I stay in view just long enough for him to see me, then rush away. He blinks, startled. He scans the room, and seeing no one, assumes his eyes are playing a trick on him, and goes back to stealing what he has no right to even hold.

I chuckle softly in amusement, just loud enough for my voice to reach the edge of his hearing. He turns again, his fear filling the air. He knows someone is watching him, and I would love to know the thoughts running through his mind. I do not hunt often, but when I do, I enjoy it immensely.

The Greifer grabs what's left in the chest, and sprints for the door. I follow him silently so he does not know what I'm doing. Outside, he steals the fastest looking horse from a stable that I had not noticed before, and kicks it, making it run. He rides for a while, with me right next to him, always on the opposite side of the horse from where his eyes look. I do not bother being quiet, and let my footsteps ring through the air, agitating him even more.

My rage is entirely gone by the time we reach his home, I am still annoyed, yes, but not seething with anger.

I grin when I look inside the Greifer's base. It seems he has friends.

"Help!" he yells when he enters the hidden home. "I think someone followed me!"

"What?!" a blond Greifer stands abruptly from where he had been lounging, playing with his no doubt over powered sword. "And you came back here! Idiot!"

"Well what was I supposed to do? Die!?" the one I followed asks angrily.

"Yes!" the other yells back, making for the door quickly. "You have doomed us all!"

I pull bedrock from deep beneath the ground up to block the exit. I laugh manically. There are three of them in total, all wearing enchanted diamond. Pity this won't last long as I had hoped. I silently kill the one who hadn't yet spoken, he slumps against the wall, unnoticed by the other two in their panic.

"Get out your weapon!" the blond one barks at his living and deceased companions. "We may be able to survive this!"

 _No you won't,_ I think.

"Laurence, what did I just say?" he yells at the dead minecrafter. "Take out your sword!"

The one I had followed quickly walks over and slaps Laurence's body, yelping when it topples to the ground. "He's dead!" he yelps, fear heavy in his voice. "Phil, he's dead!"

Phil looks startled, but puts on a confident front that I can easily see past. On the inside he's ready to get on his knees and beg for his life while filth fills his pants.

"He is dead," I say, my voice a mere whisper. "And you are next." Water begins to flow into the room from cracks in the floor. It trickles across the floor towards the Greifers.

They both scream in terror, knowing they will die. The sound makes me laugh with joy, I can taste their fear in the air. The water comes faster and faster until it is bursting from the floor in a backwards waterfall. The minecrafters are shot into the air by the force, still screeching in fear, only pausing to cough out water that entered their lungs. In seconds the room is filled, no air left remaining. Laurence's body is floating peacefully through the water as the others thrash and weakly hit against the wall in a futile attempt at escape.

Phil goes first, his efforts slowing, eyes closing and a single air bubble leaving his mouth and heading upwards. He limply floats down to the floor, his hair flowing behind him softly.

When the one I have no name for other than "Fool" begins to give out, I show myself, precious air that he wishes for so desperately forming around me. I laugh as Fool's eyes widen in fear and then hope when he spots the air. It's as though a new strength fills him as he desperately swims towards me. He cares not that I can kill him in a second, I can see it in his eyes. The only thing that matters to him now is the air surrounding me.

When he's almost breached the bubble I reach out my hand and hold a finger to his nose, forcing him back. He's weak enough that he can't go farther with that in the way. He grabs at me, trying to pull closer but he can't, his strength is gone. He can only watch as I laugh at him, so close to life, yet so far. He closes his eyes, his arms dropping. He begins to sink down to the ground. I wait a moment longer to make sure he is properly dead, then drain the room. The Greifers' bodies drop to the floor, making a loud smack sound as they hit.

* * *

 **No, this is not a one shot. Yes, it will take a while for me to get back to it since I have many other stories that need to be attended to, but I couldn't wait to post this because the idea and plot just keep floating round and round in my head.**

 **Review please! I want to know how soon I should make another chapter compared to my other fics, and reviewing will let me judge that.**


	2. Bertha

"Where are we going?" I ask once we've traveled quite a distance from my ruined home. The man looks at me and gives a kind and secretive smile, his dark eyes sparkling with mystery. I frown back at him, annoyed at his behaviour, he chuckles and looks back at the gravel path we have been walking down for the past twenty minutes. I do not want to be following him, he and his cheerful attitude can fall into the void for all I care. Alas, I cannot turn around to die in the ruins of my house. I can't seem to remember the way back, and if I just stopped walking, I may miss my chance to gain a new purpose. Right now, that is all that matters, finding something new to do, even if I won't be able to display thousands of my thoughts on a single block.

"We're going to a place that very few know even exist," he says eventually. My frown deepens at his vague answer. That tells me nothing. I do not care how many people know of this place, I just want to know what the place is. Perhaps I should be more grateful to this man, he did after all decide to try and help me for whatever reason. But I do not wish to be grateful, and to be honest, I do not really know how that emotion works. I do not remember ever feeling it, so I would not even know what it is if I feel it.

We eventually stop before a tree. It's a little larger than usual, but I don't see anything special about it, otherwise. I look at the man with a frown on my face, he simply grins back.

"Well?" I ask after a moment of silence.

"Well what?" he asks, a twinkle in his dark eyes. He's enjoying this, I can tell, and it annoys me immensely.

"What are we doing here?" I question finally, fed up with him.

"SHH," he shushes me, even louder than I had spoken. I glare at him, affronted by his behaviour as he chuckles at my expression just after he told me to keep quiet.

"I do not like you," I tell him bluntly, which causes him to shush me once again. Then the tree begins to move, twisting around itself into a form I am unable to describe, mostly because it keeps moving, changing shape, colour, and even mass. It's like a liquid, dancing through the air as leaves gracefully fall to the ground around it, sometimes falling into the tree only to be pushed back out. Some parts of the thing that I can no longer name a tree begins to disappear, fading in and out of existence. It's dizzying to watch.

My escort walks up to the shape, giving it a loving pat, which surprisingly doesn't go through the trunk. The thing writhes away from him, more leaves falling to the ground, almost seeming grumpy. "Oh, come on, Bertha. It's me!" he tells it. 'Bertha' the once tree swirls about in an annoyed manner, not seeming to be very happy with him. I can only watch in awe. The tree has not only changed shape (and continues to do so), but its blocks are moving freely, some somehow shifting their axis as they move about. Add to that the tree seeming sentient, and you have a miracle.

"What is that thing?" I ask quietly, unable to raise my voice above a whisper.

Bertha lunges towards me at the sound of my voice, surprising the man. "No! No, bad Bertha! Bad! Put him back!" he yells at it. I am now hanging upside down, my hair no longer obscuring my face. Bertha had grabbed me, reaching out with something that may have once been a branch, and pulled me to it, all within a second, too fast for me to comprehend what was happening. Bertha's...hand (I suppose I can call it that) feels odd on my legs, it keeps moving, twisting around my legs and pulling back warily as though I am a threat. I yelp in surprise at the sudden change of my surroundings and Bertha recoils as though I am spitting acid. It's grip on me tightens, and more of its hand slinks down my body, squeezing me until I can't breathe. Then I can no longer see, my vision filled with the blocks of leaves and wood. Then the world starts to go black. The lack of air is killing me, but I do not fight back. There is no reason to. If I die here, then I die. At least my death will be unique and not at the hands of some filthy Griefer or PvP addict.

Air enters my lungs once again and I instinctively take a deep, gasping breath. It takes me a moment to realize I am no longer upside down, now there is grass at my back, but the world feels odd, as though I am standing with nothing under my feet, leaning against a wall of dirt and plant. After a few seconds, gravity works and I am laying on my back, opening my eyes I am staring up at the sky with the man worriedly peering at my face. I yelp, surprised again, and he sighs in relief, then begins to scold me. "Didn't I tell you to be quiet?"

"No," I respond.

"What? I thought I did," he mumbles, almost to himself. "Yes, I certainly told you to be quiet."

"You did no such thing. You only shushed me, which is not the same as telling me to quiet."

He barks out a laugh. "I like you," he grins, speaking the opposite of what I told him earlier. He looks up, and begins scolding Bertha, who was still there and apparently not a figment of my imagination. Bertha swirls apologetically, which seems to satisfy the man. Until Bertha twists in an accusing manner. "Hey," he whined. "That was one time! How was I supposed to know that cows are squeamish around you?" Another movement on Bertha's part, though I cannot tell whether that is merely it moving naturally, or it communicating with the man. He huffed. "Which is what I was about to do before you almost killed him, just like those animals, but without the almost." I don't want to think on what happened to those cows, but visions of red dance in my head. I silently gulp. That could've been me.

The man grabs me by my shirt and yanks me to my feet, despite my glare, which he, of course, promptly ignores.

"Bertha, this is Steve," he gestures at me. "Steve, this is Bertha," he gestures to the once-tree. I gape at him.

"How do you know my name?" I ask accusingly.

Bertha twirls amusedly, and the man shoots it a glare. "Why do you only like mean people?" he asks it, tone telling he wants to pout. I don't know why he doesn't. He's odd enough, already. Bertha jumps into the air slightly, spinning as it did so, but its trunk never leaves the ground. The man's pout makes its way to his face. "You're mean, too!"

"You still haven't answered either of my questions," I point out, thoroughly annoyed now that the surprise of seeing a magic tree has worn off. Maybe I should be more startled. I am witnessing something I never knew existed, but Bertha fits in with the surroundings so well, despite being a magic sentient tree that never stops moving. It's easy to accept that Bertha exists so I can get on with my worthless life. But that doesn't stop me from being frustrated that the man won't tell me anything.

He ignores me, still conversing with Bertha. I glare sharply at him, a scowl on my face. He drags me from my home, shows me a moving tree, and now acts as though I don't exist. I turn to leave, deciding that whatever he wants to show me can't be worth this (and if all he wanted was to show me Bertha, then I am very disappointed). After taking a few steps towards the lush forest where I will die, I stop. I cannot move farther, no matter how much I try, my limbs disobey me, staying put. I try to move another direction -backwards- and succeed, panic leaving when I realize I can still move. Tentatively, I reach out my hand towards the stop I froze. My hand stops, refusing to move forward. There is nothing holding it back, but it won't go farther.

"You're not very good at being patient, are you?" I hear the man's voice say once he's finished laughing at whatever Bertha has said. Yippee, I've been following a man whose best friend is magic tree. I ignore him, still trying to push my hand past whatever barrier stops it from moving. "Try as you will, you won't get past the barrier," he tells me.

I glare at him. "Let me out."

"You haven't even seen what I want to show you, though!"

My glare intensifies, but then I sigh, relenting. It can't hurt to at least see what this thing is, right? "Fine," I grumble. "But make it quick."

"Bertha," the man says to the swirling mass of wood and leaves, which I can tell is some sort of signal because it begins to spin faster, changing shape rapidly. Two branches shoot out, one of them aiming for me, I can't see where the other is going. Before I can run, the branch swallows me and the world goes dark. It feels as though I'm being dragged through a tube, and I'm gasping for air again. Nothing enters my lungs, it's as though the only thing that exists within the branch is wood, leaves, and myself, no air to be found. The only thing I can do is desperately attempt to breathe. Everything seems to tighten around me, suffocatingly so. I don't struggle. If I am to die here, then here I will die. I can no longer feel my limbs. I begin to float on nothing, my mind fogging. My eyes close, or do they open? I cannot tell. It's so dark and quiet and I can't tell what's happening. Is this what death feels like?

The next thing I know, I'm on my elbows and knees, breathing heavily and trying not to vomit. My vision is blurry, so it's impossible for me to tell where I am. I begin to dry heave, a horrible cycle of attempting to breathe and nothing leaving my mouth, continuing this horrid feeling of my body trying to rid itself of my internal organs. After a few minutes, my stomach stops twisting itself and my throat relaxes. I take a few shaky breaths, and stand, looking around to see my sur- Where the Nether am I? It looks as though I am inside a tree, everything made out of wood. There's a large panel on the far wall that looks to be some mix of glass and wood. From the ceiling hangs branches that shed leaves glowing a soft gold. Turning, I can see the wall behind me is covered in holes, constantly opening and closing, as though alive. "Pretty neat, huh?" I whirl around at the voice, startled, only to see it's the man who brought me here. He's smirking, as though my reaction to being swallowed by a branch and regurgitated into a strange room is absolutely hilarious.

"Where are we?" I ask, unable to brush off how weird this entire experience is.

"We're in the HUB!" he proclaims cheerfully. I stare at him blankly, having no idea what that means. He sighs as though it's horribly obvious. "HUB is an acronym for Huge Ugly Bertha-" a branch whips down from the ceiling and smacks him in the head, causing him to yelp "-but as you can see, Bertha doesn't like it when I call her that, so I just refer to this room as HUB."

I blink. "You mean...we're inside that thing?"

He winces. "I wouldn't call her a thing, but, essentially, yes. This room is Bertha's core, where all Servers connect."

"Servers?"

"Yes, yes. Servers. I'll explain later, maybe. Now, then! Follow me!" he exclaims, and strolls over to the panel on the far wall. I blink again and do as he requests, following him. I think I'm a bit dazed. Perhaps I hit my head while I was inside Bertha's branch. I certainly wouldn't have been able to tell. He's already poking the panel, pressing different shapes and numbers, typing things into a box, pressing a rectangle. He grins cheekily at me as two branches whip down from the ceiling, swallowing us up once again. When I emerge, I dry heave again. Thankfully, it doesn't last as long, and I'm able to stand soon enough. I stare at these new surroundings. It looks like everything has been Minecrafter made. Buildings tower into the sky, detailed structures of great magnificence. A single build seems to hold a hundred different blocks as it twists and turns in harmony with the others. They seem to tell a story of sorrow and happiness and it's so very beautiful.

I jump slightly, startled. Since when have I thought anything beautiful? But, yes. If I had to describe this all in one word, beautiful would be fitting. I could stand here and stare all day, but the man speaks. I didn't even notice him walk up next to me. He says perhaps the most intelligent thing I've ever heard him say: "Close your mouth. You'll start to drool." I snap my mouth shut and look at him, surprised. He laughs at my expression, much to my annoyance. "Amazing, isn't it?" he says, gazing at the towers.

It really is, but what I want to know is- "Why are we here?"

He sighs. "Straight to the point, aren't you? Can't even take a moment to appreciate life." After a moment of silence, he continues. "We're here so you can see that a chisel isn't the only tool that can create such splendor. Since your work is what you enjoy, I'm offering you the chance to create things like this," he gestures to the never ending buildings of beauty.

I blink, my brain working to comprehend what he had just said. He was offering me- a complete stranger, a chance to make such things? I... I'm not sure how to feel about this. Should I be happy? Or...what?

Let me pull what he said apart so I can digest it easier:

"Since your work is what you enjoy." Alright. So this has something to do with work and putting thoughts out to the world. Got that.

"I'm offering you the chance to create things like this." Offering me a chance? That means it's not guaranteed to... how will he give me the chance to do this, exactly? I verbalize that question.

"I will give you certain... aspects of life that for you is untold that shall allow you to be able to create this and more before you die," he says with a wink.

I narrow my eyes at him. "And how will you do that? How do I know you can even do that?"

"Bertha is a moving tree that can help you travel through worlds."

"Point taken. What's the catch?" I questioned, remembering the "chance" part of his sentence.

"You just have to do me an eensy weensy favour and slay the one known as the Beast," he says, as though killing something that has the title "Beast" is no big deal.

"...Pardon?" I say, staring at him in disbelief.

"Just vanquish the Beast and prove you're worthy, and you shall once again have a purpose," he tells me cheerfully.

"I have no idea what's going on. I'm going to need to think about this."

"Oh...erm...I already kinda told Bertha you'd need a ride to a new Server," he says, wincing slightly as a branch appears from nowhere. "She'll bring you back once you hold the Beast's head."

"Wait! What?!" I yell as the branch lunges for me.

The last thing I see is him giving a sheepish wave before the world goes black once again.

* * *

 **Not too happy about this chapter. -.- I just really wanted to finish it before I lost interest and forgot my plot. Fun things should happen next chapter, though! Unless I decide otherwise...**

 **Review replies:**

Aurora of the IceWings:

 **:D Thank you. Knowing that pleases me.**

 **Again, thank you. (Oooh. That's a cool way to portray him. [No! No! Stay back, fic ideas! Stay back!]).**

 **I no longer understand the meaning of dark. I have been hiding in the shadows for too long, so you're safe here.**

NotReallyAName:

 **Wow. 300 reallys? That's a lot. Thanks! (Hopefully it will be.)**

 **It changed POV once, but I'll make it clearer next time there's a change again. The different style is because I always seem to change styles when I write, which I find pretty neat.**

 **It works either way, but I like to think of her reaction being caused by her appreciating the gift, and how Steve (yes, you're correct on his identity) rarely gives gifts to anyone 'cause of his chosen solitude.**


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